Dove & the Carnival Corpse
by thehugbandit
Summary: Ten years ago a horrifying earthquake shook Japan to its core. Many perished, but a few found themselves with mysterious new abilities known as "Branches of Sin". Fast forward ten years. Japan's very own privately owned prison has a deadly secret. Inmates are tortured for the entertainment of others. So what's a girl like Naomi Lang, an innocent without a Banch of Sin, doing there?
1. Prologue

**_Prologue: Love Story_**

"This is a love story, Mr. Fox. But don'tcha worry, it's not as cliché as you'd like to think. No, this story is whimsical and fun. It involves love, yes, but there's also pain and heartache, and I know how you _do_ love pain and heartache, Mr. Fox." I pressed my lips into a fine line examining the darkness of the room that lay plainly before me. After a few beats I exhaled slowly clasping my hands in my lap and eased my back deeper into the velvety love chair. I could feel Mr. Fox's eyes burning into me. His sinister Cheshire grin stretched completely from one ear to the other. Just his face sent chills dancing through my body. I crossed my legs. He leaned forward.

"The boy lived a life a luxury. He was raised in a strong Christian household as an only child to a wealthy doctor and a simple housewife just along the coast of the great American states. Though his family produced a long line of doctor's, the boy found himself wondering what life would be like studying abroad, traveling. Through a divine intervention, or perhaps just a string of random events, the boy found himself with the best of both worlds. He became a doctor, yes. But he was so much more than that. A scientist and a missionary. A fine catch for anyone. And as he reached his late twenties, the boy started looking for a bride. A beautiful, beautiful bride."

"This story's a bit boring, my dear little Dove." Mr. Fox hummed. I couldn't bear to meet his gaze. Instead, I fixed my eyes at my hands. They were trembling. Fear struck every fiber of my being. I cleared my throat.

"She came from an opposite background." I explained. "One of five girls, her family struggled to make ends meet. Many nights they found themselves starving, to proud to beg for a meal or ask for help. No one bothered the girl. No one seemed to care about her dreams. But each night, after her four sisters rested their heads on the pillows, she began to dance. She danced the night away, not caring who would notice. In her mind, she was free. She was happy. She was far away from the quaint Japanese town that held her captive. And her talent didn't go unnoticed. It wasn't long before a big producer found her and whisked her away to a life of fame and fortune."

"My beautiful Dove, why are you telling me this?" Mr. Fox interrupted again. Just as before, I ignored him. I squeezed my hands tight watching as my knuckles, once full of color, slowly began to drain to white. I sealed my eyes shut.

"It was fate that brought the boy and the girl together. The boy had opened a free clinic just outside of Tokyo. He was ready to leave that night, to return home to the States and the girl was about to embark on her greatest performance, the one that would take her strait to the top. Yes, she was engaged to be married to a man who was fine enough, but had a terrible and fatal flaw. He loved the bottle more than he loved her. And on that dark and ominous night, he drank a little too much and crashed his car into a tree. He died instantly, but she wasn't so lucky. That crash should have killed her, but by God's grace she was spared and rushed right off to the free clinic the boy had opened himself, not two years before."

"Dove…" Mr. Fox growled. I sighed.

"As I mentioned earlier, the boy was destined to leave. He was running his rounds, making sure everything was set and ready for his absence. His heart was heavy, and he couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right and that his time in Japan wasn't over. And just as the thought entered his head did a stream of bright and colorful lights flood the hospital. The girl, now a woman, laid motionless on a gurney being rushed in by a herd of frantic people all screaming at the top of their lungs in a desperate angelic choir. The boy, now a man, knew that he must stay and help this poor woman, for her life depended on it. He cancelled his trip and operated on her for seventy-one hours straight. She was his sleeping beauty. She was only awakened by his kiss. As her gaze danced along the handsome man's body, she didn't feel the misery she was expecting. She knew at once what had happened to her and felt and awing sense of peace surging through her now broken body. The man was happy the stranger had survived and claimed he felt love at first sight with this woman. She didn't know why, but she also knew it was true. This would be the man she would marry. _Until death due them part._"

I paused. I found myself fidgeting with my hands as I anxiously awaited Mr. Fox's response. His face remained indifferent and just as pleasant as always. He matched each fingertip to the opposing hand making a lean pyramid with his lanky fingers and jutted his chin out to me. I felt my nerves running wild. I felt dead. Lifeless. My heart ceased its heavy beating as his slanted eyes brushed against my fragile body.

"Little Dove, little Dove, why carry on with this story?" He asked once more. "Why is this so important to you?"

I gave a dull shrug of my shoulders and shifted my weight from one side to the other uncomfortably. "I thought you should know." I murmured. "Those were my parents. I think it's important to remember them. To never forget. Because I know who killed them, Mr. Fox. The man is here. He's trapped in this building. Just like you. Just like me."


	2. Chapter 1

**_Chapter One: Mr. Fox & Little Dove_**

The hallway seemed to stretch on forever. It was like one endless black hole and, as much as I hated it, it seemed fitting enough. Time didn't seem to exist here. Hour after hour passed and yet I remained frozen in place, barely making myself go through the motions of living. I hated that feeling. I despised it. The feeling of hopelessness. Just on the brink of giving up.

On life.

On revenge.

On _happiness_.

The darkness purged my soul and left me feeling empty and alone, just like this hallway. And the very worst part of it all was I didn't seem to mind it anymore. I'd become immune to it. No, immune was the wrong word. I'd become _numb._

I steadily dragged one foot after another letting a low hum roll off my chest. I continued swaying to the soft beat of my lull trying my best to convey my sorrow with song and dance. A rogue tear touched my cheek. My heart ached. Why was I here?

"Little Dove! Little Dove!" The voice seemed to flutter through the air with the grace and agility of an elegant butterfly. My skin crawled as my body and mind registered whom the muttering belonged to. I stopped breathing. "Little Dove! Little Dove!"

I turned on my heels. My bare feet squished with the moistness of the dirt from the dingy tunnel. Filth splattered and splotched against my open flesh, of which I had no idea. But I ignored it. My spirits were long past the realm of broken.

"Little Dove! Little Dove! Come out of hiding! Daddy has a new toy for you!"

I waited, listening to his voice warp and reverberate off each of the stone walls lining the tight tunnel. It grew louder and louder until it was practically on top of me. I gripped at a strand of hair and twisted it around my finger. Patience wasn't my strong suits, but I had learned how to keep it from showing.

"Little Dove! Little Dove!" He called. I opened my eyes. He was there, standing inches away from my face. I couldn't find it in me to smile. "Look what I have for you."

I glanced at his hands. Clasped tightly in his fists he held a silver collar. I'd seen the other prisoners wearing it. They looked like dogs to me. Trapped in a twisted zoo. My stomach dropped. I stared at him wide-eyed.

"Why?" I choked. My throat felt dry as cotton. Tears brimmed in my eyes and blurred my vision. His clever little smirk remained unfazed. I felt sick. "Mr. Fox, I don't understand. You promised you'd protect me."

"Yes, my child. But this is much more fun. Won't you try it on for me?"

I hesitated. For the first time in a long time, an emotion stirred inside of me. I felt it twisting and turning around my gut, seeping in through my bloodstream and tingling from the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my toes. I desperately wanted to run.

"No." My voice was firm. His smile slipped.

"What did you say?"  
"I said no!" I screamed. "You don't own me! I'm not your toy!"

Without giving it a second thought, I slapped the overly glorified piece of metal out of his hands. The ring hit the ground with a high-pitched _ping_ before rolling safely to the wall. I balled my hands into tight fists and brought myself eye-level to him balancing on my tiptoes to glare. He frowned.

"It's just for appearance." He said coolly, but even so, I could hear the lies behind his words. "You'll be completely safe; I swear it on my life. The other prisoners are starting to ask questions. They're wondering why you get to roam around here freely. You can't be my dirty little secret for much longer."

I felt uneasy at his words. He tangled his hand into mine. I arched my brows up.

"I love you." I whispered. "I love you because I have to. But you, as a person, make me sick to my stomach. I could care less if you live or die. You're no fox. You're a-a-a _weasel!_"

"Feisty tonight, are we?" His smirk returned. He gripped my hand tighter. Slowly he pulled me back in the direction of the fallen collar. He crouched to its level taking me with him. I couldn't help but notice how fascinated he was with the object, how much he seemed to treasure it as he smiled at his reflection. I pursed my lips. I'd never come so close to hating anyone in my entire life. "You want to find the one who killed your family, do you not? That was the first thing you ever told me, isn't it little Dove? You'd be the first to break into Deadman Wonderland and demand to stay. That's the name of the game, isn't it? Or have you forgotten our deal? I'm trying to help you. _Let_ me help you."

My hand fell slack in his. I lowered my head. He pulled us both to our feet, holding the collar in his hands as if it were a newborn. I wanted to cry in frustration, but fear struck me first. I stood perfectly still as he fastened the bulky device to my neck. I felt it clip into place, needles dug through my neck and clasped to my veins. I retorted. Stumbling back in pain. Mr. Fox gleamed in triumph. I continued to glare.

"This isn't funny!" I hissed. He shrugged.

"It fits perfectly." He hummed. "Now, then. There _is _the matter of the whereabouts you'll be staying."

I straightened my back. "What do you mean?" I growled. He fixed his glasses to a point on his nose. I was really beginning to hate that face of his.

"You can't stay in my office forever. It's much too comfortable. You'll be transferred to G."

"G?"

I'd been here for nearly a month and not once had I heard anything about a "G Block". There had to be a reason he'd kept it hidden from me for so long, but try as I might, I couldn't quite see his angle. I was wrong to ever call him "Mr. Fox". The more I got to know him, the more of a weasel he became to me.

"Yes, G Block." He said examining his nails. "It just might be more fitting for you, my little Dove."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I complained. "Why a Dove?"

"All will be revealed in due time." His voice hung in the air like a dark cloud. My heart skipped a beat. Something about him seemed more off than usual, but I couldn't place it. It was all just feeling with no proof. Instinct. I blinked twice. The first time, I saw Mom's smile. The second, Dad's stout frame. I held my breath, waking to the hideous reality. Mr. Fox was practically on top of me. I didn't have time to scream, within seconds a moist cloth covered my mouth and nose. As I inhaled, I felt my body shutting down. Blackness swallowed me whole. I didn't stand a chance.

"Hello?" I screamed. The panic was clear in my voice. I frantically searched the room violently whipping my body in every which way to examine the seriousness of the situation. "Hello?"

I groggily rubbed my head pleased that besides being relocated, I hadn't been otherwise touched. I let my body relax as my memories slowly started to return. Frustration licked at my body. That psychopath locked me in here for an imaginary crime. I had to play by _his _rules now. Despite my better judgment, I had trusted him. Look where that'd gotten me.

I puffed out steam rolling off what appeared to be a bed. From what I could tell, I was stuck in a cell-like room with plain white walls and dingy gray carpeting. It was nicer than what I'd expected, but still, it wasn't ideal. This place, "G-Block", had no personality. It was barren.

Lifeless.

A wasteland.

I rolled my eyes bringing myself back to my feet. The carpet was rough and itchy as I drug my feet from one side of the room to the other. As I inspected the room, I found it was more like a motel than a prison. There was a small full bathroom equipped with toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, and a bar of soap. A closet full of a few of my favorite outfits, and a blank dresser with a note resting dully on the edge. I scooped the note up and carefully read over the neat Japanese characters.

_"Little Dove,_

_Please enjoy the rest of your stay here in the Carnival of Corpse! This is a standard Deadman's room, just like everyone else's in G-Block. Feel free to decorate it to your satisfaction._

_Love,_

_Mr. Fox"_

I scrunched the note up in my hand and tossed it into the wastebasket. How was I supposed to decorate the room to my liking? I had no currency to buy anything with, and from what I could tell, Mr. Fox had no way for me to make any casts.

I rubbed my neck. Disappointment started sinking in as my hands grazed the metallic collar. Why was I so stupid? Why risk my life over the past? It wasn't like me.

I shook my head pulling at the drawers of the dresser. I yanked open the top first. My heart dropped.

"How? Why?" I gasped. It was stocked full of cast cards. I cleared my throat picking up a single card to further investigate. It appeared real. I scooted the cards around. At the very bottom rested another note.

_"Don't forget to buy some candy! Your life depends on it!_

- _Mr. Fox"_

"My life?" I mouthed. I scraped my mind for an answer. I vaguely remembered someone mentioning the collars were specifically designed to inject poison into imamates on death row and that the antidote was in the form of bad tasting candy. Did he really equip me with a working collar? I placed the card back in the drawer and tossed the second note with the first. This was ridiculous. I was mad that I wasted a month doing nothing and now I was scared for my life. If I didn't ration, I would die. I missed the freedom I so willingly gave up.

"What are you doing? Are you playing a game?" Someone asked. The voice sounded childish but aged all at once. I spun on the balls of my feet coming face to face with an upside-down albino girl. She was beautiful. There was no denying it. With her long bone-straight snow-white hair and matching pale completion, she reminded me of an angel. That said; it was hard for me to tell her skin apart from her tight fitted bodysuit she was sporting. But her very presence and child-like wonder comforted me in a way I couldn't fully comprehend. Before I knew what was happening, I was smiling. I inched closer. She stared at me wide-eyed still hanging upside-down from the air vent.

"A game?" I asked. My voice softened. I could feel my mood completely changing. I rocked back on my heels. "Well, not at the moment. But I do love games! What'd you have in mind?"

"Hide-n-seek?" She asked innocently. "Hide-n-seek! Hide-n-seek! Shiro loves hide-n-seek!"

"Shiro? What a beautiful name." I hummed tilting my head to look at her properly. She giggled bringing both of her hands over her mouth.

"You speak funny!" She laughed. My smile expanded. She had to be at least fifteen, but mentally she couldn't be older than ten. I wanted more than anything to protect her. I don't know how, but I understood that she had been through something traumatic to lock her in this mentality. She'd been falsely accused, like me.

"It's called an accent." I informed her. "I'm not from around here."

"Shiro lived here her whole life!" She told me. A small smile parted across her lips. "What's your name?"

"Naomi." I whispered. It felt weird, having a name. For the past week I'd been 'Dove', and now I had a name. A real name. She giggled.

"Naomi! Shiro likes Naomi! Let's play! Let's play!"

"I'm going to count to ten. My bed is base. No hiding in the air vent, understand?" She nodded. I giggled pulling my hands over my eyes. "One…two…three…four…" My voice trailed on. I heard her hit the floor with a light _thud_ and gently scurry away. Her energy was utterly intoxicating. It was nice. Nice to finally have a friend in this God-forsaken place. "Six…seven...eight…nine…" I paused giving her enough time to adjust. "Ten! Ready or not hear I come!"


	3. Chapter 2

**_Chapter Two: Blackbird Sing_**

"One, two! Buckle my shoe!" I chirped. My voice soared and dove with the trills of the song. Shiro stuck her arms straight out pretending to be an airplane as I wildly chased after her. Our laughter filled the air and eased the tension that always seemed to follow this dark, disgusting place.

Shiro took a sharp turn. Her long white hair whipped backwards. I skidded after her. I smoothed out the wrinkles of my dress, adjusted myself, and eagerly lapped after the girl trapped in a teen-age body.

"Three, four! Shut the door!" Shiro called over her shoulder. In one swift move, she leaped for an air vent tucked safely behind a corner. Though I barely knew her, one of the common facts I had gathered about Shiro was her obsession with disappearing in and out of the prison, especially by means of the vents. Without giving it another thought, I followed.

The vents were dark and damp with a slight draft pulling us backwards. I squinted my eyes amazed at how quickly Shiro was able to navigate through the narrow tube. My knees ached as I tried my best to keep her quickening pace. She was like lightening. Lean and limber; flexible and unwilling to slow for me. Before I knew it, she was completely out of sight.

"Shiiiiirrrroooooo!" I giggled. My voice reverberated off the metal walls. I could feel the vibrations circulating through my hands and knees, tickling every nerve of my body. I paused, waiting for a response. There was none. After a beat, I started my pace again. "Shiro?" I whispered. The vibrations were smaller. The muffled sound of my movement continued. "Shiro? One…two…buckle my shoe." Still nothing. No light to radiate the exit, no voice to guide me out of the darkness. Fear started creeping in. I puffed out steam. I should have known better.

_"You look ridiculous." _I felt like someone had injected me with ice. The sound of her voice sent chills dancing through my body. Rough and smooth all at once. Sweet and fierce, something no one should toy with. _"What have you done? First, you break into a prison and now you're chasing girls through a vent? Have you gone mad?"_

"I'm not crazy." I grumbled back. My eyes widened in horror. Why'd I respond to her? She wasn't real.

_"I'm real enough!"_ She snapped. _"Think of me as your voice of reason. You were never the logical sister; that was always me. But now that I'm gone, who's going to look after you?"_

"I think you have that backwards." I laughed. "If I remember correctly, _I_ was the one always keeping _you_ out of trouble. Although I have to give you props, _you_ were absolutely brilliant. You always were."

_"I still am."_

I didn't respond. I couldn't find it in me to. She was dead. Just a ghost of a memory. As much as I wanted her to be here with me, mocking me like she always used to, she wasn't. Harriet was gone.

Dead.

And there was nothing I could do to bring her back.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of niiiiigggght!" I belted. "Take these broken wings and learn to flllyyyy."

A single tear trickled down my cheek and hung at the butt of my chin. I sealed my eyes shut. My heart ached so much. How could anyone go on living when all that made them happy has been taken from them? Where does their strength come from? It didn't seem humanly possible.

_"That's because it's not."_ Came a second voice. This one I knew only too well. Father.

"What do you mean?" Even my words trembled. I cleared my throat. "Do you know a secret I do not?"

_"Perhaps."_ He hummed. _"Omi, you're a beautiful girl and stronger than you give yourself credit for. Do you remember what I did after your mother died?"_

"You worshipped." I choked. "You praised God for the time you had with her. Why would you do a stupid thing like that?"

_"Because I knew where she was." _He said. His voice so firm and velvety I wanted nothing more than to drink it in forever. _"I knew she was in heaven dancing with Jesus."_

"I don't have your optimism!" I snapped. "You were always able to see the light at the end of the tunnel, that's a God-given gift I was never blessed with! How could you leave me like that? How? Without a light to guide me! I'm so lost."

_"Look up."_

I felt my brows knit together in confusion. Slowly, I tilted my head up letting my long, unruly hair fall at the angles of my shoulders. A brilliant silver light seeped through the end of the tunnel flooding me in its glory. A wide smile etched across my face. My heart swelled with hope.

"Blackbird sing." I hummed pulling myself closer to the gaping exit. I let my legs dangle effortlessly out of vent to position myself to scan the surrounding area. I scrunched up my nose in disgust. The putrid smell of blood burned my nostrils. I cringed. Just the thought of blood threw my stomach in a whirl.

"Come back!" Someone screeched. I whipped my head in the direction shilling command. "I'm not done with you!"

I shifted my weight slightly. I felt like I was at a cinematic adventure watching a story quickly unfold right before my very eyes. I was dangling over what appeared to be a boiler room. Steam and heat brushed against my open flesh, taunting me. I licked my lips and watched as a boy no older than fifteen darted out of the darkness. He seemed to be struggling to stay standing. His whole figure wobbled. He was trembling. I studied his face. Brows burrowed forward, hands clenched in tight fists, lips pressed into a fine line, muscles tight. He was angry.

Determined.

I followed his line of vision. There, with his back turned away from the boy, stood a man just as cool, calm, and collected as the mid-summer night's breeze. A lopsided smirk hung at the corner of his mouth as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Unlike the boy, this man seemed to care less about the tiff that apparently happened just a few moments before I arrived.

I let my eyes dance around the room. A smashed war-bot laid shattered off to the side of a flaming pile of metal and next to its hollow carcass rested the silhouette of a crouching boy a motionless girl. My heat skipped a beat as I traced the imaginary lines around the girl.

_Shiro._

"You don't understand the Branches of Sin, do you kid? Huh. Some fight you were, _Woodpecker."_ The man's gruff voice carried all the way to where I sat in the vents. I shivered. Why were they fighting and why was Shiro hurt? I sealed my eyes shut and violently shook my head no cupping my hands over my ears. None of this was making any sense.

"Shuttup you bastard! You killed my friends!"

Killed his friends? I let my eyes flutter open. My gaze first grazed the man who was now facing the boy. He looked rough, the perfect image of a killer. But then again, this was a prison so that didn't really surprise me. The thing that took me off guard was how young the boy appeared. Just a baby. He staggered forward allowing me to catch a glimpse of his face. Deep gray eyes filled with hate sat just below his messy jet-black hair. I felt the air around me drop. My blood flow slowed and my heart nearly stopped working altogether as his face registered in my mind. He was part of the reason I was here.

Ganta.

He killed my sister along with his entire class.

I never imagined this would be the way I'd meet him although so many nights I laid awake fantasying our encounter. I felt so much rage in those sleepless nights. He confessed. I saw it. He was so smug. So proud of himself. So cocky it was literally sickening. I dreamed of wiping that pleasant smile off his face. I swore I'd teach him a lesson. But looking at him now, seeing how sad and pitiful he was, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Something felt off. I wasn't sure he was guilty of the crime anymore. He just seemed so, so sad.

_"That's because he didn't do it." _Harriet whispered into my ear. I shrugged my shoulders letting my face sink into a frown. _"Trust me, I was there. Ganta wouldn't hurt a fly. He doesn't have it in him."_

"Trust you?" I grumbled. "You're just a figment of my imagination. Harry, I'm crazy, remember?"

_"What makes you so sure? Take a good look at him, Omi. He's sad. Look at his jaw. See how he's holding it? How clamped up it is? And look at his eyes. See? He's about to cry. That's grief and anger at its finest. Let it go, Omi. He's not your guy."_

I lowered my head. She was right. The grief was so clear on his face. And he was covered in blood. So, so much blood. I shivered. It wasn't him. He was fighting for them, his fallen classmates. I was sure of it now. Ganta was innocent.

I slid my butt out of the vent and held onto the edges with my hands as I lowered myself to the ground. I remained virtually unnoticed as I circled the two males about to kill each other. I wasn't sure what was happening, or what my plan was, but I knew I wanted it to stop. Senseless violence was the most annoying thing in the world to me and if Ganta wasn't the killer, I was pretty sure neither was this man. It was an unnecessary fight.

"Stop." I said. My voice fell flat. The tall brute straightened his back and the boy crouching next to Shiro looked at me confused. Ganta refused to part his eyes from his dance partner. He remained in attack mode. I glided to his side and rested my hand on his shoulder. I could feel how tense he was. Every muscle lining his slender frame locked up. I tried not to show my concern as I stared at the man towering a few yards away from us.

"Who the hell are you?" Ganta grumbled. "This bastard killed all of my friends! He has to pay!"

"I understand you anger." I muttered. "More than you know, but this isn't your guy."

"Liar!" Ganta snapped. The smirk returned on the stranger's face. He crossed his arms coolly over his chest and snickered to himself.

"Listen, kid. I already told you I don't know what you're talkin' about, but Crow never turns down a fight."

"Crow?" I murmured. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. His whole face flushed with heat. He glanced away.

"Erm, yeah." He said rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "They call me Crow around here."

I turned to Ganta. "And they call you Woodpecker, right?" I could feel myself getting off track, but I didn't care. A different question probed through my brain. "Mr. Fox calls me Dove."

Crow's posture changed. It was like he ran into a brick wall. His eyes widened in pure shock and he slipped backwards. Ganta didn't budge.

"Dove? You're serious? You're a legend around here. No one's seen you fight but we've heard rumors about your Branch of Sin. They call it Blood Rain."

I felt sick. Again with the blood? I dropped my grip on Ganta and rubbed my stomach. I hated it. I hated blood. So, so much. I froze.

"You've heard of me?" I asked. Crow gave a dull nod. "Blood Rain? My Branch of Sin?" Was this what Mr. Fox meant when he said he'd take care of me? Did he mean he'd spread more lies? Did he even think about what would happen to me if someone found out? I shook the soft red curls out of my hair. Why was he going through such great lengths for me?

"You seem confused." Crow stated. I puffed out steam.

"Confused sounds about right. I'm sorry. This is awkward. I stumbled into your battle, demand you stop and then start asking unrelated questions. I can only image what this looks like to you."

His smiled widened. Ganta let out a frustrated grunt.

"Stop this senseless chatter!" He screamed. He turned to me. His big gray eyes filled with bitterness as he balled his hands at me. "I don't know who you are, Dove, but this doesn't concern you. Look around you. He's a monster! He hurt Shiro and killed my friends!"

I pivoted on the balls of my feet. Shiro was still out cold. I gripped at the hair on the top of my head. What was I doing?

"What'd you do to her?" I hissed. "What'd you do!"

"You know Shiro?" Ganta's voice softened. All I could think to do was nod. He glared at Crow. "Then you agree; he must pay."

I stole another glance at the man called Crow. He was smug, our little side conversation didn't appear to have any effect on his at all. I rolled my eyes. I couldn't help but feel that this man, Crow, had nothing to do with the school killings. As far as I could tell, Ganta's accusation had zero evidence to back him up. I puffed out steam and stepped aside. If Ganta was going to go kamikaze on me, that was his problem. Not mine. Crow would slaughter him, and by the looks of it, Crow already had. I'd failed to notice the smooth crimson coat covering Ganta's pale skin. My stomach knotted. I couldn't control it, this horrible awful feeling flushing through my body. I felt pale.

Frail.

Unwell.

As my eyes unwillingly locked on the trickles of blood trailing down his already shaking body.

I pressed two fingers to my lips and stumbled backwards. Something was breeching my lips. My breakfast. I tried my hardest to suppress it, but my gag reflexes were working harder than ever to toss my cookies. I contorted forward.

"Dove?" Crow asked. I violently whipped my head from side to side. My eyes watered. All I could see every time I closed my eyes were the splotches of blood caked onto his prison uniform. I couldn't see anything else. It was everywhere. Every angle, every side of my vision. Ganta took me as a distraction and expanded his hand. He cranked it backwards, as if loading an invisible cannon. My eyes widened as I watched the blood pull together in a tiny flowing orb. It grew and grew and grew in the palm of his hand and in one swift move, he lunged forward forcing the blood cannon at his target. Crow was fast to respond. Swords formed at his forearms out of his own blood. He used them as shields to block Ganta's attack. It was all too much. Was this the Branches of Sin Crow was talking about? I retracted my hand from lips and cupped my shaky hands over my ears. My hair dangled over my eyes. I couldn't watch. I couldn't see it. The senseless violence. All that blood. It wasn't logical. None of this was.

My world started spinning

Spinning

Spinning

Out of control. I dropped to my knees and emptied my stomach. The smell of my own mess only made me sicker. I rolled backwards and curled up into a ball. I closed my eyes and waited for everything to go black.

I was insane to think my plan would actually work.

I was insane to believe I was strong enough.

I was insane.

Period.

**_Author's Notes:_**

Hey, guys! Sorry this chapter is so long, descriptive, and boring. I barely managed to read through it myself, so more power to you if you've stuck around this long! I love you for that! Ha ha. I know Naomi/Dove isn't exactly the most likable character ever. I realize she's whinny and annoying, but that's exactly how she's supposed to be. She's scared out of her mind. She's angry. She's hellbent on revenge but is too much of a pansy to do anything. She's also very analytical which is why this chapter is so descriptive. Anyways, I hope that helps. Again, love you! You rock.

Peace, Love, & Blackbirds,

Rachel


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